


Donna's Magnificent Rack

by nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Crack, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-12
Updated: 2011-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd been the first thing he noticed about her when they were introduced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Donna's Magnificent Rack

**Author's Note:**

> This is not fact, it is fictional satire sort of thing.

David really wanted to touch Catherine's breasts. They were round, they were soft-looking, they were magnificent. Sofia had quite small breasts, so it had been a while since he'd got to play with a nice pair of tits.

They'd been the first thing he noticed about her when they were introduced. He'd said "I'm sure you'll bring something unique to Doctor Who. There are things about you that leap for the eye."

"I've been worrying that I might not measure up."

"Oh you _certainly_ measure up well. It's obvious just looking at you."

"Well I'll certainly try to put up a good front."

David smiled at her, the same smile that had got Lis into his trailer with her knickers on the floor and her legs wrapped around him. (The most erotic experience of his entire life. Shagging Sarah Jane Smith as she moaned "Oh Doctor, Doctor, fuck me.") "I look forward to working with you."

 

All through filming he found himself distracted by them. He longed for an excuse to touch them, but there was no call, sadly, for the Doctor to feel up Donna's breasts.

He got Russell on the phone and he said "Russell, about this Lonely God thing."

And Russell said "What's your thought?"

"The Doctor's been through a lot since season two. Rose left, Martha left, the Master died in his arms, and then he lost Astrid as well. He's suffered and I think now he has something that keeps him going, something that inspires the Lonely God to stay on the good path."

"Yes, David," said Russell, patiently, "that would be Donna." David could hear his contempt. "That's the entire fucking _point_ of companions, David. That's what they're _for_. Rose, Martha and Donna are the reason he wakes up every morning."

"But it's more than that," insisted David. "Let me put it bluntly. I think the Doctor sometimes has a feel of Donna's tits. Just to cheer himself up."

"He's not in love with Donna," said Russell. "We've discussed the Doctor's love life in season four and Donna isn't part of it."

"I know that. I'm not _saying_ he's in love with her. I just think he occasionally... you know... cops a feel."

"I don't think so, David. It's not one of your better contributions."

"You're gay, what the _fuck_ would you know about tits?" He was angry, but he really, really wanted to touch Catherine's breasts.

"Don't be such a fucking homophobe, you haggis-fucking Jock."

" _I'm_ the Doctor, Russell. I know how he thinks. I've been playing him since I was five years old." He moved the phone to his other ear. "The man likes a nice pair of melons. Why the fuck else would he travel with Peri? And he's been through a lot. The only thing keeping him going is getting his hands on Donna's chest."

"I'm going to hang up now, David."

David went on desperately. "Okay, get me Steven on the phone. He's the heterosexual one, he'll understand where I'm coming from."

"I know _exactly_ where you're coming from," said Russell, and hung up on him.

 

Finally it was time to show the world what they had done. Nine months of long hours and getting singed by explosives had come to an end. This was it, this was the big reveal.

He wore a velvet suit to the press screening, and Catherine wore a black dress with... well, her tits were pretty much hanging out. It was hard not to stare at them. It always was, but especially in that dress of hers. The bow on the front gave him ideas. Ideas that made him as hard as a rock. (Which had happened sometimes during filming. Oh well, the kids would think it was the sonic screwdriver in his pocket and the mums would keep on writing him filthy letters about what they wanted to do to him.)

He had to touch them. He had to. He reached out his hands and spread them just inches from her tits.

"What are you doing?"

Shit. He'd forgotten that he'd need her consent. He didn't want to become another John Barrowman. "I'm just... stretching my fingers. Sometimes women want to look at them when I sign autographs."

"Oh?" Catherine raised an eyebrow and smiled at him suggestively. "I wonder why that would be?"

Oh God, was she flirting with him? He knew that the Doctor-Donna on-screen tension had caused a bit of a stir in the production office, but was it really that she fancied him? It wasn't just that he blatantly wanted to touch her breasts?

He flexed his fingers and looked down. "Wow," he said, "my hands are the perfect size for your breasts."

Catherine licked her lips. "It's difficult to find a man like that when you've got a rack like mine." She leaned in and whispered in his ear. "Would you like to touch them?"

He swallowed hard. "God yes," he said in a hushed voice.

Catherine pulled him away from the press and into a cupboard.

 

Much fumbling later they emerged, still adjusting their clothes.

"We've been looking all over for you," said Russell, fag in one hand and a drink in the other. "Get your skinny arse into that room and put on a nice smile. Catherine, don't let him answer any nerdy questions. Anything Steven would know the answer to."

"Everyone knows Kasterborous," said David.

"Don't. Just... don't."

As they moved to walk away Russell leaned in and said quietly. "You're right. Really fantastic tits."


End file.
